


What Remains of Amélie Lacroix

by atouchfromafar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Good versus Evil, Medical Experimentation, Multi, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atouchfromafar/pseuds/atouchfromafar
Summary: When Amélie woke up, she found herself in a very strange place...





	1. Waking

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is (hopefully) the start of something very long-winded. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy <3

When Amélie woke for the first time, she found herself in a very strange place. Tethered to a metal table by leather shackles, it felt as if she had just entered a nightmare. Her surroundings were forebodingly sterile - at least from what she could discern from the confines of her restraints. The walls were a cold, silver metal, the room lit solely by blue strip lights. Icy air was pumping thick and fast through vents in the floor, nipping at Amélie’s skin as though ants were marauding her body.

The silence was the worst part. All that could be heard was the whoosh of air entering the room through the vents. There wasn’t a sound else, not a footstep, not a single indicator of her whereabouts. Amélie had heard of such terrible instances as this before - it was not uncommon for the wives of important men to be kidnapped or killed.

She had talked about this at length with her husband Gérard - although he had assured her that she would be protected until his last dying breath, he had also warned that there was the possibility of such a thing as this to happen. To combat it, Amélie was subjected to lengthy sessions in self-defence, and in preparation for the worst of all outcomes, Gérard had issued a retired member of the Soldier Enhancement Program to double as her bodyguard. Until just now, his plan had worked without fail. Amélie had endured attempts at her kidnapping before with zero success. But now that she had been taken, she felt out of her depth. There had been little preparation into what would happen after the fact - something she only began to regret just now, staring face-first at the nightmarish reality before her.

It felt as if hours, days, had passed. All Amélie could do was stare at the ceiling and try not to fall into the trap of despair. The drugs in her system were slowing everything down - her thoughts as thick as glue, making every second a battle to keep her conscience and composure, a battle she was losing. Despite the panic clawing rabidly at the center of her chest, her heart felt as if it were sleeping. Her brain was falling into chaos as her body, her vessel, left itself neatly behind.

At the end of the room, far outside of Amélie’s field of vision, a door opened. A woman came into view, walking calmly and quietly toward Amélie as if she were in sight of a hospice patient. She was tall, and pale, her ginger hair short and swept neatly backwards, her face pointed and sharp and full of angles. In full view Amélie could inspect her features further: Her body was slim and frail, patches of skin on her hands an odd, inhuman shade of purple. She was clothed in plain, practical clothes, along with a long, pure-white laboratory jacket, and a pair of glasses hung delicately from a chain on her neck.

“Amélie Lacroix,” She stated plainly. “We are at last acquainted.”

Amélie stayed quiet, not daring to say a word lest it brought about consequences. She had been taught that silence, in itself, was sometimes the best defence.

“I see you are more of the quiet type,” The woman followed. Lifting her glasses to perch them delicately on her nose she bent over to inspect the woman before her. “My, you are quite the sight in person. Of course, I don’t mean to offend - I have only seen you in pictures until now.”

She backed away, somehow airing a respectfulness Amélie did not anticipate, which in itself made her face screw up in confusion. Somehow, the situation had entirely bemused her - even more-so now that the details were beginning to fill themselves in.

“Who are you?” Said Amélie, a wash of bravery melting the ice in her chest. “And what do you want from me?”

The woman tutted, she looked almost disappointed. “I was hoping for less of a textbook response,” She came back into Amélie’s line of sight. “My name is Doctor O’Deorain. Doctor Moira O’Deorain.”

“Doctor O’Deorain…” Amélie repeated to herself, as if hearing the words again would somehow legitimise them in her mind. “Why am I here?”

“Mrs Lacroix,” The doctor began. “I believe you already know the answer to that question.”

“Gérard.” Said Amélie.

The doctor nodded, turning to pull a metal cart into view. Atop were a number of mysteriously labelled bottles, syringes and needles, various blades and other macabre, torturous looking pieces of equipment. Just the sight of such an array made Amélie’s heart turn to stone, and the pale face before her transformed quite effortlessly from a mystery to a monster.

“Doctor…” She whimpered, shifting uncomfortably in her position as the doctor lifted a syringe into view, pushing on the plunger and flicking the needle as a delicate arc of liquid spurted into the air.

“My last patient was a Capuchin monkey, so do forgive me if I’m a little rusty with my needle-work,” The doctor notioned apologetically, bending to fix Amélie’s head into place. “Now, I won’t lie to you and say the experience will be pleasurable, but I can assure you that it will end. Eventually.”

“What do you mean?” Demanded Amélie, her voice strained and panic-stricken.

“I mean that you are to undergo a few changes.” Said the doctor, a grimace spreading intractably from one cheek to the other. “But don’t panic. Once the pain is over, you won’t feel it again.” She said, pressing a thumb gently with one hand to the furrows of Amélie’s forehead, and with her other, plunging the needle deep into Amélie’s neck.

~

All Amélie felt at first was the sharp pain of the needle entering her skin, then afterwards a stinging, burning agony as the drugs entered her system. Whatever it was, whatever Doctor O’Deorain had put inside her, it felt as if venom were pumping through her veins. She couldn’t help but scream, her hands clawing desperately to try and escape her restraints, limbs flailing and convulsing spastically.

Doctor O’Deorain was entirely unsympathetic, looking to Amélie as if she were little more than a subject. She didn’t talk, amidst Amélie’s agony she presumed it was out of some strange attempt at mutual respect for her predicament. It couldn’t have been as easy as the doctor made it out to be - to watch someone endure so much pain, and to know it was her fault in its entirety.

The doctor turned to press some buttons on a panel in the wall, and with that the strip lights on the ceiling started to strobe, turning from a cool shade of blue to a hot, bloody red. She disappeared into a tall silhouette, barely visible behind the lights which flashed before her. Then there was a sound, something horrifically high-pitched, loud enough to feel as if it were shattering Amélie’s eardrums. It went straight into her brain, twisting every thought into a guttural instinct to survive. There were more needles, more drugs, more strange, incomprehensible feelings. The world was becoming hazy, as if she were falling asleep, but she could still see the silhouette of her captor stood resolutely in front of her. That was, of course, until her consciousness finally gave way, and she lost herself to the darkness, feeling the world as she knew it fade quietly into the distance.

~

“Cerementin Tetranatol,” Moira began. “Is a recently discovered drug heralded in the dark world for its neuropsychiatric effects.”

The doctor paced across Amélie’s room as she spoke. “Now, at therapeutic doses I have discovered it’s use alongside other drugs of my own concoction to induce some very interesting responses,” She waved her hand. “However, it is very important to measure doses correctly, as too little or too great a dose can bring about some less-than-welcome effects. Like death, I suppose.”

There was a chuckle from across the room as Amélie sat up on her bed, keeping her blanket wrapped tight around her chest. It was strangely comforting, to wake up somewhere safe each morning, despite whatever hellish, traumatising situation she would be thrown into soon after. Waking up to Moira’s strange Irish chattering became a staple, something she expected, anticipated and almost look forward to, as at this point in the day no harm could come of her if the doctor was enthused by her own scientific deliberations.

It had been several weeks since her kidnapping - at least that was what how long she had supposed it to be, having no real way of telling how much time had passed. Her days had been quite repetitive - she’d wake up to Doctor O’Deorain (or Moira, as she insisted on being called) bringing her food and medication. After that she would be escorted somewhere to wash and change, and then taken to Moira’s laboratory, where preparation for her treatments took place.

Moira always wanted her to be involved. She insisted on ensuring Amélie knew exactly what was being done to her, perhaps under the guise of informed consent that she had undoubtedly been bound by for years beforehand, or perhaps simply because she enjoyed the company. Either way, Amélie felt no need to complain. To her, it felt as if this way she had some form of control over her own situation, even if it was simply a ruse to keep her from going insane.

The first couple of weeks had been an extremely jarring process for her to acclimatise to. She spent most of it restrained to one thing or another, pumped full of tranquillisers to prevent her from getting aggressive or physical, which she had certainly attempted to do at first. It took a while for her to accept there was nothing she could do but try to survive and wait for help, if help were to ever come.

Surely it would do. Gérard would undoubtedly be worried senseless, and he’d have the best Overwatch operatives at his disposal to ensure his wife’s return. That in itself was a comfort - there was almost a surety that she would end up safe at home again, in the arms of the man she loved.

It hurt her chest thinking about him. She had known from the day he slid that wedding band on her finger that she was risking her life to be with him. He was a dangerous man in a dangerous world, but not even God himself could have kept her from him. Gérard was a good man. A moral man. He did what was right, and she would stand by his side because of it. Even if it killed her.

“Amélie.”

Moira’s soft voice pulled her out of her daydream.

“It’s time.” 


	2. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their eyes met across the room and all the pain, all the fear and sadness Amélie had been fighting melted into nothingness. There was a purpose to her existence now, like a switch had been flicked and a new person had been turned on inside of her. Something which felt so good could not possibly be resisted. She smiled back at Moira, a grin spreading softly across her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Chapter two is finally here. I’m pretty excited about this one. We get introduced to some infamous new characters, and there’s a good bit of tension to boot. I hope you enjoy <3 p.s. I’m sorry if chapters come out a bit haphazardly - I’m going through exams at the moment so I don’t have an awful lot of time to write, but I’m doing my best.

After washing and changing, instead of being taken to Moira’s laboratory as usual, Amélie was escorted somewhere different. She traversed many winding corridors as she walked, other strange little rooms and scary-looking holding cells. Wherever she was, it was quite busy - something she hadn’t quite expected. There were many people around - officials, scientists, cleaners, soldiers. It was strange to see so much life again, having been kept to herself for so long. The familiarity of her surroundings was disconcerting. It reminded her of one of Overwatch’s many command posts, what with its people, its secrecy, its air of militancy and sterility.

Amélie wondered what exactly Moira was doing, putting so much trust in her like this. There was so much opportunity for her to cause a ruckus that it was almost too great a temptation; but then she saw Moira’s uneasiness - the way her body was tensed, her hand like a vice on Amélie’s arm, and somehow it nullified her insurgency.

And there was little point in trying to talk either. She had learnt by now that her questions rarely brought about answers - or at least, answers which made sense to her. Moira was a confusing person, she’d explain in her own way, but the language she’d use was so sterile and academic that it was quite indecipherable. It was hard for Amélie to believe Moira had any emotions, or any sort of humanity for that matter, at all.

Turning one last corner, Moira stopped in front of a pair of double doors.

“We’re doing something different today,” She stated, turning to face Amélie and brace her for what was about to come. “I’m introducing you to your team members.”

“j’y crois pas…” Amélie muttered incredulously, under her breath. “My what?”

The doctor only chuckled, pushing open the doors to reveal a hugely expansive training area. At the far end were two figures, who seemed entirely ignorant to their new company as they didn’t even flinch from their activities. Both were thoroughly engaged in sparring with each other and despite the fact that one was easily half the size of the other, they appeared to be a perfectly good match.

“Reyes, Colomar, she’s here.” Said Moira, raising her voice to address the room before her as she and Amélie walked over to join them.

In closer view Amélie could take in the features of the people in front of her. The shorter, a woman, was clad in all manner of electrical equipment, her hair dyed a fantastic purple, with various diodes and electrical components somehow embedded into the shaved side of her head. She was quite beautiful, makeup applied neatly on her face, her nails matching her hair, her skin soft and dark.

The other was clearly a man, though it was more difficult to tell. He stood much taller, clad in all-black robes, a familiar, ghostly mask covering his face. Reaper. She had heard of him before. How could she forget? He was supposed to have been killed in an explosion years ago. The old leader of Blackwatch - a dark legend.

“She looks different in person,” Said the woman, Amélie noted her Spanish accent as the woman cocked her head to inspect her face. “But I’m guessing that’s your fault, Moira.”

The doctor laughed. “And do you have anything to comment, Reyes?” She asked, turning to face the man in front of her.

“Nothing pertinent.” He replied. His voice was throaty and rasping, as if he were sick, and Amélie wondered what could have been wrong with him.

There was a pause.

“Yes… well, since it seems neither of you are capable of introducing yourselves,” Moira placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “This is Olivia Colomar, code-name ‘Sombra’. She’s our… IT specialist.”

Colomar grinned, taking a step back to bow egregiously. Reyes shook his head and groaned, clearly disapproving of his partner’s immodesty.

“And this…” Moira turned, gesturing to the man in question. “Is Gabriel Reyes. You’ll be familiar, perhaps by his code-name, Reaper.”

Amélie nodded. “I know who you are.”

Reyes huffed, not saying anything else.

“Well… now that introductions are out of the way…” Moira began awkwardly, turning and motioning something to Colomar. “You can begin your training, and I will take my leave henceforth.”

“Training?” Asked Amélie, her face fraught and dumbfounded.

But Moira only smiled, and with that that, she left as quickly as she came, leaving Amélie alone with two of the most dangerous people she had ever come into contact with, and not a single idea as to why.

Colomar had already disappeared off somewhere, leaving Amélie alone with Reyes, who had apparently took it upon himself not to talk. A minute later though and she had returned, a pistol in hand. “You’re going to learn how to use this-” She stated, cocking the pistol as easily as if she were flicking a lighter. With one swift movement, she turned and fired a shot into the head of the training bot closest to Amélie. “- So you can shoot like that.”

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I said so.” Smiled Colomar, handing her the gun.

There was a moment of tension between the group. Colomar’s eyes fell sharply from Amélie’s face to the gun in her hand, her lips pursed with something resembling anticipation or fear, or perhaps both. Reyes stood still in his place. There was something about the way he was standing which made Amélie curious, as if he were waiting for something.

And then she looked at the gun in her hands. It made her fingers itch, having something so deadly and powerful entrusted entirely to her. She’d never held a gun before - Gérard had never let her. It was ‘far too dangerous’, as he liked to tell her often. He was always so afraid, so afraid of getting her hurt that he never let her feel alive, never let her get involved. She understood why, because it would have gotten her killed, but it always felt so plain and so boring to live like the rest of the world when she was entwined in something so entirely different.

But it did feel so good to have power for once.

Within seconds there was a horrible, sickly intrusion to her thoughts, one which bubbled inside of her like molten ore, and before she even knew it, she had taken the pistol in one hand and held it shakily up to Reyes’ chest. With a gun she had the potential to control, she had influence for the first time in weeks, months. This had to be her window, or she was sure she’d never see one again.

“Lacroix…” He warned quietly. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why?” She said. “Because killing you would kill me?” She took a second to laugh. “I was already dead when they -you- put me in here.”

She cocked the gun.

“Do you even know what she has done to me?”

The two were quiet. She expected Colomar to have done something already, to have shot her in the head or wrangled her to the ground. She expected Reyes to have moved, to have grabbed the gun, or for the room to fill with guards and for her to be dragged out and put in a cell and filled with drugs again.

But nothing was happening. Nothing was happening and it terrified her. The gun in her hand felt so heavy, it made her hands shake. Her breathing quickened, and she rocked back and forth on her feet, unable to make the choice. If she shot him, she would be dead. She knew as much - but was there really much point in trying to stay alive anymore?

If Gérard was going to save her, if Overwatch were really looking for her, wouldn’t they have found her by now?

Even death was better than what she knew this existence would bring.

She let out a garbled whine, swinging and pulling the trigger. A loud bang shot out across the room and her legs gave way with it, making her collapse to the ground.

Everything felt so intense, she was sure that if she had been shot in retaliation she wouldn’t have even felt it. What she had done was irreversible. All that awaited her now were its consequences. There was a voice amidst the chaos. Soft and in disbelief, saying her name above the hard thudding of her heart in her chest and the ringing in her ears.

“Amélie.”

She opened her eyes and saw Colomar squatting in front of her, her hand stretched out to pull her gently to her feet. To her left she heard a cough, deep and masculine, and turning around she saw Reyes standing in exactly the same place as before. He was completely unharmed. Completely unphased.

Confused, she looked between the two of them for an answer. Colomar, who was quite taken aback by everything herself, only pointed behind Amélie’s head, and when she looked around she saw it.

A training bot, with a bullet lodged perfectly in the centre of its head. A bullseye. The first shot she had ever taken.

She hadn’t shot Reyes. She had shot the bot instead.

There was silence as she tried to understand, tried to grasp what she had done. It was almost as if her body had done it for her. She hadn’t even thought, it had just felt physically correct. And there was a feeling, a powerful surge inside of her that made her want to do it all over again. Something she knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore.

In the corner of her eye she noticed a movement from across the hall - Moira, standing in the doorway, a soft smile across her face. She must have been watching from somewhere, because the look she was giving was one of pride, and all Amélie could feel was a deep satisfaction.

“It seems our little spider knows how to spin a web.” She said above the deafening silence.

Their eyes met across the room and all the pain, all the fear and sadness Amélie had been fighting melted into nothingness. There was a purpose to her existence now, like a switch had been flicked and a new person had been turned on inside of her. Something which felt so good could not possibly be resisted. She smiled back at Moira, a grin spreading softly across her cheeks.

Perhaps she was right. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
